Midnight Strikes me at the corner of icons.
I just wish the bus would come.
& brandish my headphones against the night
and its mouthful of wanderers.
Seattle's needle fingering my eyes
with orange-drunk nostalgia
I imagine the saucer as a wildly disproportionate hamburger,
Its bottom bun is jellyfish lettuce
all held up with a matrix of toothpicks
and in the center
one phosphorescent spine
stabilizes my appetite for combining disparate genres.